Where Home Is
by atlaswhite
Summary: Tintin doesn't think birthdays are very important. He doesn't even know when his could be, and besides, there are so many more exciting things he could be doing. But Captain Haddock happens to think birthdays are to be celebrated, and he intends to share that with Tintin. Tintin/Haddock


_Tintin & Captain Haddock - Where Home is_

When Tintin came home to Marlinspike Hall, Snowy trotting happily at his heels, he was looking forward to nothing more than taking off his coat and resting in his favorite chair with a cup of tea and pleasant company to pass the evening with. All he really wanted now, with all the day's excitement through, was to relax and put everything aside.

But that would really only happen after he'd written his article.

He fished in his coat pocket for the keys, drew them out and unlocked the Hall's huge front doors. They opened with a push and a creak, and Tintin stepped inside, breathing in the smell of the ancient, beautiful château he was so fortunate to call home.

Snowy just ran in irreverently past him, sat down and started scratching his ear.

"We're home, Captain!" Tintin called, cheerful but drained, shutting the doors back behind him.

It was quiet at first, and Tintin thought that Captain Haddock must've been upstairs or out in the yards. It seemed that Nestor must've been in the kitchen or out with him, because he wasn't here to welcome him either. And of course Professor Calculus wouldn't hear, wherever he was, he could count on that much, although the Professor did have an odd way of wandering round just in time to greet him.

Tintin took off his coat and folded it over his arm, and Snowy padded off ahead of him past the stairs to the living room. It wasn't the first time he had come in to a quiet home, but he was starting to get pretty used to the warm greetings when he arrived, or not long after. Funny how much things had changed since his days of living alone.

He went down the hall, hung up his coat and proceeded to the somewhat musty old room he used as a study. It hadn't been one of his most _harrowing_ adventures, but he had gotten a good story today. This time it was counterfeit merchandise. Tintin had staked out the docks and photographed the evidence. It was risky, but it was worth it for a good story.

He sat at his typewriter and started his article. It was a little slow-going at first, as he tried to find the right words, but once he got started, his fingers flew across the keys with practiced ease, accompanied by the familiar clatter and the occassional _ding_.

He got so engrossed in it that he didn't even hear the rough knock on the door, or the sound of footsteps, or the creak in the floor from a loose board being stepped on.

Snowy, on the other hand, heard all of it, but the dog just lifted his head and wagged his tail cheerfully, watching the intruder step up behind Tintin.

Tintin only knew about it when he felt large hands on his shoulders. He gasped reflexively, twisting in his chair, ready to fend off an attack if he had to. He was immediately caught in large arms that trapped his upper body and pinned him in his chair.

He might've been more worried if it wasn't for the burst of laughter that came next.

"I got you!" Captain Haddock crowed. "And here I thought you impossible to surprise."

Tintin laughed along good-naturedly, leaning against the Captain's broad chest. "Yes, you, ah, certainly got the drop on me this time, Captain." He sighed, waiting for his heart to stop beating quite so quickly. To be honest, he was still getting used to these games.

Haddock eased his grip on Tintin and leaned over his shoulder to look at the half-used paper on the typewriter. He gave a soft huff, and glanced at all the printed-on papers stacked and spread about the typewriter on the desk. And poking out of a few stuck drawers. And stuck in between books here and there on the shelves. And pretty much anywhere else there was space.

"Work as usual, is it?" He asked.

Tintin shifted in the Captain's arms and resumed typing. "I need to get this written before I can relax." He answered.

"You've only just gotten back," Haddock protested gently. "Do you never take a break?"

Tintin chuckled. "Be fair, Captain- you know I do. And anyway, I don't think it will take that long for me to finish this article."

Captain Haddock made a low sound of acknowledgement. He stood quietly and watched Tintin's fingers dancing along on the keys. The youth had truly gotten this to an art, he thought. As long as the Captain stood there, the reporter didn't make a single mistake; didn't waste a single sheet of paper.

And that was very good, too. There were already so many sheets of paper all stacked and strewn about the small room- certainly it wouldn't do to add to this mess.

For the first time, it dawned on the Captain that Tintin had no particular place to put all those papers and folders and clippings of his. When Tintin had first moved here, all of the books the youth had brought with him were put on the grand shelves of Marlinspike Hall's library, placing his collection alongside that of all the Hall's previous occupants. (Haddock had told Tintin then that all the books he'd inherited with Marlinspike belonged as much to the reporter as they did to himself, and he meant it.) He had a wardrobe for his clothes, too, and a place for the case he kept his typewriter collection in, and plenty of space to display his many souvenirs. But the papers, those were a very different story.

Tintin had asked to use this room as his study, and of course Haddock agreed, no question. Even though his needs were all taken care of at Marlinspike, and even though he didn't have quite the insatiable lust for adventure he used to, the youth still loved writing too much to ever stop. He still wrote articles, still covered stories. They just didn't take him into wartorn countries so often anymore.

Haddock was glad for that. Going to the Moon had been _more_ than enough adventure by itself to last him the rest of his life. He hoped Tintin would switch fully to editorials and novels soon. Either way, though, something had to be done with all this paper!

The Captain thought about it while he waited for Tintin to finish. He hoped it wouldn't take too long, because he wanted to spend some quality time with the youth, and to tell the truth, he was a little cross with him for taking off like that. It made him worry. What if he took off like that for some destination much further away than the docks?

"Bah." He huffed.

"Something wrong, Captain?" Tintin asked without looking up.

"I just don't like you taking off like that." Haddock replied. "If you're off chasing some harebrained story, I'd better at least know you're leaving. You don't live alone anymore, you know. You have to let a body know when you head out, especially if you're gonna be attempting something dangerous."

Tintin's fingers faltered over the keys, and stopped. He turned in his seat to look at the older man. There was something hard to place in his pale eyes, but there usually was.

"I'm... I'm sorry." Tintin said quietly. "I will try to be more considerate in the future."

Haddock was surprised; Tintin almost never apologized for anything.

"Well, erm, thank you, Tintin." The Captain said, smiling a little awkwardly. "That's all I ask, a little consideration."

Tintin smiled. "Perhaps I should finish this article this evening. For now, I ought to take a break, just for a little while. Either way, I'll be able to get it in on time."

The Captain's smile became a big, mischievous grin, and he let go of Tintin. Tintin looked confusedly up at him, when, suddenly, Haddock stepped up next to the chair and grabbed him up out of it. The chair was knocked over from the sudden movement, and Tintin gave a start.

Haddock carried Tintin proudly out of the room, one arm under his upper back and the other under his legs. He'd well recovered from their blasted moon trip, and he felt as strong as he ever was.

...Well, there were a few little problems here and there, but they weren't important. And he would never admit them. Not even to himself.

"Ah! Captain!" Tintin laughed, holding onto the older man's neck. "What are you doing? Stop this!"

"But why?" Haddock said. "My back's as good as it ever was, and a man ought to be able to carry his beau every once in a while, eh?"

They both knew the youth was fully capable of getting loose if he really wanted to, but Tintin only put up a token struggle, pretending to be more affronted than he really was. He couldn't even keep himself from laughing. Captain Haddock easily carried him to the main room and put him gently into his favorite armchair.

"There you are!" Haddock said proudly. "Now it's time for you to take a break. Probably the first one you've ever had, eh?" He chuckled. "You didn't even take holidays off before you came to Marlinspike, did you? On Christmas, on your birthday, chasing some criminal through the African jungles..."

"Oh Captain." The reporter leaned up and kissed him- not on the lips, but on the cheek, playfully. It made him feel a little childish. Really, it made him feel _free_. "I have been doing a lot better since coming here."

The Captain huffed. "Aye, you have." He conceded, rubbing the youth's hair. Then he paused, freezing in place for just a moment. "You know, as long as we've been together- as long as we've _known_ each other- we have not celebrated your birthday once."

Tintin squirmed under him, looked a bit sheepish. It didn't suit him at all. "Well, if I am perfectly honest, that's because I don't _have_ a birthday to celebrate."

Haddock's eyebrows raised. "What? You mean to say you just sprouted up out of the ground one day like a wee flower?"

"Of course not," Tintin answered calmly. "I just don't know what day it could be. I never celebrated it, and, well, certainly nobody else did, either, so... That's just how it is."

Now the Captain was starting to understand, and so he took on a solemn expression. He scratched his beard thoughtfully. "I see... That's a real crime, you know."

Tintin smiled at him, but he could see it was nothing more than a token. "Not at all. What's the good of knowing which day I was born on, and marking it on a calendar? Really, you needn't worry about it."

Captain Haddock wasn't quite sure how to respond. He didn't want to push the issue, but it seemed like such a great injustice to him- especially since he could only think of one reason why Tintin wouldn't know his own birthday. Even more so, since he'd really only been a young lad when they'd first met. He just couldn't stand by and let something like that go.

"Tintin..." He started carefully. But he was never very good with tact, so when he went on, he did it full speed ahead. "Do you really _mean_ that? Even out on the sea, we at least _remember_, have a drink with friends, that sort of thing. Does it truly not bother you at all?"

Tintin sighed- wistfully, the Captain thought. "I understand your point of view, Captain, but... I truly don't have any use for it, and I can't miss what I never had."

Haddock put himself at his full height. "Well then, we ought to fix that, eh? I mean, maybe you never had somebody to tell you what day it was, but you could very well just pick a day you like. It's the _meaning _of it, not the facts behind it. It's a celebration of you and your life."

Tintin smiled softly. "Alright. If it means so much to you, I'll choose a day. Would it satisfy you?" The other man nodded affirmatively, and so Tintin paused and thought about it. "How about... the tenth of January?"

"Sounds fine to me," Haddock replied. "Is that day especially significant to you?"

"That was the day I embarked on my first overseas assignment." Tintin admitted. "It was my first big story, my first time leaving Belgium." He laughed then. "That sounds so sentimental, doesn't it?"

"Ahh, but isn't that the point?" Captain Haddock answered, smiling with satisfaction.

Tintin chuckled. "I suppose so!" He agreed. "Very well, it's agreed."

Haddock nodded, satisfied. "Right you are: January, on the tenth." He announced.

Tintin smiled warmly at his enthusiasm. He hadn't thought much about the exchange, or the decision, Captain Haddock was sure of that. Probably the youth would just keep on regardless, without even remembering the day they'd picked. Well, that would have to change. January the tenth was going to be a very special day from then on.

Tintin finished his article and got his time off with Captain Haddock, who later gave him a set of drawers to store the extra papers- although it did seem to make the study a little more crowded, at least it cut down on all the scattered sheets. The spring came, and despite their best efforts, they ended up going off on another adventure when Professor Calculus was abducted by the Bordurians because of his bizarre soundwave invention.

And then, one summer night, Captain Haddock took Tintin out on a date, and they came home to find that bratty little prince Abdullah had shown up uninvited all the way from Khemed, and then Tintin dragged the poor Captain all the way out to Arabia to get to the bottom of it, leading them onto yet _another_ wild adventure out on the Red Sea.

The later autumn was gratefully more peaceful, and most of the winter after it, too. Of course, Tintin managed to find a few less intense adventures here and there, but honestly, even Haddock knew that they would have both been a little disappointed if he hadn't. The urge to travel was no longer as strong as it once was, but that didn't mean it was gone altogether.

By the time January came, Tintin had long since forgotten about the exchange he'd had with the Captain the year before.

There were patches of snow on the ground, the sky was pale gray, and the air was cold and dry. Tintin walked down the sidewalk to Marlinspike Hall, hands thrust in his coat pockets, Snowy happily trotting along next to him.

Once again, he returned to the grand château, carefully shook the snow off his shoes and took them off in the entry hall. It was delightfully warm inside, and right now he was looking forward to little more than sitting in his favorite chair across from Captain Haddock with a mug of hot chocolate and Snowy in his lap.

Before Tintin even had the chance to announce his arrival, Haddock came up to greet him, dressed even more nicely than usual, and looking very pleased with himself.

"Tintin, what perfect timing!" He said. "Come with me, I've got something to show you. Oh, but first, close your eyes."

Without waiting for an answer, he grabbed the younger man's hand and pulled him along after him. Tintin resisted the urge to pull away or try and ask what was going on, because whatever it was, he was clearly about to find out, and the Captain did so love surprises. He composed himself enough to close his eyes.

He followed Haddock trustingly, focusing on the roughness and warmth of the older man's large hand, the sound of his feet on the wooden floor, the wonder of what he was going to surprise him with. Well, it had to be something nice, anyway.

The Captain stopped, and so Tintin did also. He was pretty sure this was the estate room, because of the way they'd taken. It was Marlinspike's largest room, and the place they now displayed the Unicorns. Reminders of one of Tintin's fondest memories.

Haddock let go of his hand and turned toward him. He could hear the larger man step away.

"Okay...open your eyes!" Haddock said, and there was so much excitement in his voice that Tintin couldn't help but smile.

So the journalist opened his eyes.

And suddenly there were so many people shouting: "_Surprise!_"

It startled the youth, and his mouth fell open. He couldn't believe what he was seeing, the estate room all decorated with paper streamers, and all these familiar faces gathered around him. There was Professor Calculus and Nestor, of course, but then there was Captain Chester was there, along with several of his shipmates from the _Sirius _and a few sailors Tintin remembered from the _Aurora _expedition. Abdullah was there with his guards and wow, so was the boy's father, the Emir Ben Kalish Ezad. The professors Tarragon, Cantonneau, Phostle, and Falconer were there, and of course, Thompson and Thomson, smiling brightly under their bushy moustaches. There were a few natives of the town of Marlinspike, and other familiar faces from their adventures. Even Mister Baxter and Senhor Oliveira were there. Tintin had never thought himself to have so many...well, so many _friends_.

"Great snakes," He breathed. "What is all this?"

"Why, we're here to celebrate your birthday, dear boy." Professor Tarragon said cheerfully.

"My birthday?" Tintin echoed in disbelief.

"But of course!" Captain Haddock said. "Look, some of these people have come from halfway across the world to celebrate with you. You didn't forget what day it was, did you?"

"Looks like he did!" Captain Chester laughed. "Too busy exploring new continents to remember something as trivial as your birthday, eh, lad?" He stepped forward and nudged Tintin light-heartedly.

Then the youth remembered: January the tenth. It was January the tenth today, the day eh'd picked as his birthday a whole year before. And Captain Haddock had gathered his friednds together for a party. It was amazing how he'd managed to pull all of this together. Though there were a few faces missing from the party (he was sure Bianca Castafiore would have been there if only the Captain would have invited her, and he wished a certain young friend of his from China could have made an appearance), it was too amazing, it was too moving for him to dwell on that. Tintin felt a strange swell of new emotions rise in him that he could barely contain. He couldn't find any words to say.

"I, I suppose I was!" Tintin said at last, laughing in disbelief.

Thompson and Thomson stepped up to him now. "Happy birthday, Tintin." Thomson said, presenting a handsomely-wrapped giftbox.

"To be precise, err, happy birthday, Tintin." Thompson said, and held forth a similarly handsome box.

The two had always felt rather strongly about Tintin, to be honest. He accepted both the gifts graciously.

"My word! Th-thank you all for coming!" Tintin exclaimed. "This is really too much!"

"Why, not in the least!" Captain Haddock said. "You've never had anybody celebrate your birthday, and I think that's inexcusable. So now you've got _everybody_ to celebrate it, you see? We're having a real proper party today, with gifts and everything."

"Quite so!" Thompson declared. "I think there ought to be a law about that, in fact."

"That's really too kind." Tintin said. He was a little embarassed to realize that his cheeks were getting warm now. Not used to this kind of treatment, he was blushing under all the excitement and attention.

Abdullah scurried up, grinning his particular mischevious grin. "My present's the best of all, Tintin! Just wait 'til you see it."

Tintin chuckled. "I'm familiar with your special brand of presents, Abdullah. I remember the cuckoo clock you gave to the Captain, after all."

"Yes, well, I think we can deal with that when it's actually time to open presents." Captain Haddock cut in. Tintin was sure he was already planning on making sure Abdullah's present got lost before then. He took such good care of him, really. Just look at this amazing celebration.

Tintin had never had a gathering like this before. He never thought about how many people this great big room could hold, either. Captain Haddock had invited everybody he could think of, and that was more than Tintin could ever have asked.

Together, everyone had a wonderful time. There was good company and good food, and everyone wishing Tintin a happy birthday. He'd never had anyone say that to him before, and now all these people had said it, all of his friends, all of these radically different people who really _cared_ about him. And how amazing that felt.

They'd brought him wonderful gifts, too. Each of them was such a reflection of the person who had brought it, from the beautiful old compass given to him by Captain Chester to the African tribal shield from Mark Falconer to the dapper hats from Thomson and Thompson to the Portuguese wine from Senhor Oliveira and the scale rocket prototype model from Mister Baxter. (And oh, where was Abdullah's little present?)

When he'd unwrapped all these wonderful things, Tintin had to excuse himself for a moment to compose himself, as he'd nearly cried. He did cry a little, once he was alone, standing in the bathroom with his hands braced on the sink while he let the emotions run their course. This was overwhelming. This was something new that he just wasn't used to, and it was so wonderful that he couldn't possibly put it all into words.

He wasn't gone for too long. He was surprised when he opened the bathroom door to rejoin his friends to find Captain Haddock standing there.

"Are you alright, then, Tintin?" He asked, his voice and his eyes full of concern.

"Oh, Captain! I, _ahem_, I'm doing just fine, thanks." Tintin said.

"Are you certain?" Haddock insisted. "I could ask everybody to go on home if you'd like."

Tintin shook his head vigorously. "Oh no, please don't do that." He cleared his throat, rubbed self-consciously at his eye. "Really, I just... as you well know, I have never had something like this before. A birthday party, a lot of people making a fuss over me. I needed a moment to compose myself."

The Captain nodded. "Ahh... Well, nobody's going to judge you for that." He took a handkerchief out of his pocket and offered it to Tintin, who accepted it gratefully and dabbed at his eyes and his cheeks. Ah, that was better.

"Thank you, Captain." Tintin said quietly. "For everything."

Haddock shook his head. "Not at all, Tintin. I owe you everything, y'know. And, you know what, I haven't even given you your present from me yet. I think you'll like it a lot."

Tintin smiled up at him.

Haddock grinned. "Now that's more like it. You ready to get back to your fans?"

Tintin laughed softly. "Y- yes. Let's get back to the others. Shall we, Captain?"

The Captain offered his arm like a perfect gentleman. "We shall, good lad. Come along then, sprightly, now."

Tintin accepted his arm and allowed himself to be led back to the estate room. Their arms fell away from each other as they got back to the large room, but it didn't bother Tintin. There were certain things that were kept quiet and for good reasons. But none of that mattered, as his friends greeted him once again, and beckoned for him to come back to them and tell them how he liked their gifts. He was positively thrilled, lost in the moment.

And he didn't cry again after that, either.

Dinner was wonderful, filled with energetic conversation, and afterward there was cake. It was a simple thing, sweet and soft, but a profound one. A magnificent cake made just for him. He blew out the candles and Chester told him: "Make a wish, lad!"

Tintin thought about it for a moment, then said, "I'd wish to do this again next year, if that's alright."

His friends reacted very approvingly to his idea. The celebration had been such a success, such a joy for all involved, why shouldn't they do it again? Tintin was well worth it, after all. The praise made the young journalist blush once again, and even though he felt just as embarrassed as he had when he'd done it earlier that day, he found it was accompanied by a great warmth in his chest that he liked very much.

This, he saw, was what it meant to be surrounded by people who cared.

There was one last thing after that. When everyone had either gone home or off to stay in town or retired to the guestrooms here in Marlinspike Hall itself, bid the birthday boy their last good wishes for the night, Captain Haddock and Tintin lingered in the estate room.

"Captain, didn't you say that you had a gift for me as well?" Tintin asked, smiling, tired but intrigued.

Captain Haddock smiled back at him, full of mischief. "A gift? Me? Why would I say something so silly as all that?" He asked.

Tintin stepped up to him until their fronts were nearly touching, tilting back his head to look right up at him, their eyes meeting. "This day has already meant so much to me, Captain, and it's all thanks to you. Thank you, truly."

Haddock put his arms around the youth and pulled him against himself. Each could feel the other's warmth now, and smell his scent, his cologne. Even just standing there, it was wonderfully intimate.

"You deserved it, Tintin." Haddock said warmly. "I said it earlier, and I mean it. And I did say I have a present for you. Let's go and see it, shall we?"

Tintin nuzzled into the taller man's chest. "I can barely wait."

The Captain released the journalist from his embrace and then took him by the hand. He led him, up the stairs and through the halls, until they reached a door with a bright red ribbon tied to the knob.

"Isn't this one of the old storage rooms?" Tintin asked, looking from the door to the Captain.

"Aye, it _was_." Haddock replied. "But now, lad... Well, open the door, see for yourself."

Tintin stepped up to the door and slowly turned the knob, pushed it open. He switched on the light, and when he saw the inside of the room, he was overwhelmed all over again, putting his hand to his wide-open mouth.

"Captain!" He gasped. "It's, it's _beautiful_!"

The room had been converted to a large and beautiful office, a window on one side, handsome antique furniture all set up with far more storage space than that little study he had been using. Oh, that room had served its purpose, but this was just incredible, expansive and well-ordered and put together with love and patience. There was a big desk and there were bookshelves and filing cabinets and a nice reading lamp and a swivel chair- the works.

"You like it?" Haddock asked hopefully.

Tintin turned to look at him. "Like it? Captain, I... I love it. Thank you so much." He leaned up and kissed the sailor. "You, I think you're spoiling me. Look how much you've done for me." There were tears stinging his eyes again, but this time, he didn't really care.

"I certainly aim to." Haddock said, chuckling, the sound a low, warm rumble. "I've said it twice now and I'll say it again- you deserve it."

"I'll treasure this room," Tintin said. "I'll certainly put it to good use."

"I know you will." Haddock said, pulling the youth into another embrace. "In the morning I'll give you the grand tour of it, and move all your papers and things up there to boot. But before that, we'll have ourselves a nice breakfast in bed, hmm?"

"Perfect idea." Tintin hummed.

"Now let's turn in, you and I. Everybody else's already gone to bed now, eh? And I want to spend a little time alone with the birthday boy, myself."

Tintin laughed. "Then that's just what you'll do." He took the Captain's hands in his own. "I like the idea myself, too. And, crumbs, it seems like the least I can give you after all you've done for me."

"Like I've said repeatedly today-"

Tintin cut him off with a kiss, and then took his hand and led him back to their bedroom.

Marlinspike Hall was a remarkable place. Whenever Tintin returned to it, he had to take a moment to appreciate all it meant to him. And now, just lying in bed next to Captain Haddock, snuggled into the sailor's arms, warm and safe and more happy than he thought he'd ever been, he found himself contemplating it once again as he drifted off to sleep.

He had lived there for a year now- since that awful, fateful trip to the Moon- but every now and again he found himself struck by the fact that this really was his _home_.

It was the first place he'd ever lived that was not a flat or a hotel or... well, an orphanage. It was the first place he'd ever really felt _wanted _at.

At his old place, he was only _tolerated_ by his landlady and neighbors. They were probably pretty relieved that no one else would get shot at their doorstep and that there would not be anymore bombs or rude parrots or knife-wielding assassins in the dead of night. And goodness knew nobody ever wanted him at the hotels he'd stayed at, not if all the murder attempts meant anything.

But here, in this beautiful old building, he had friends, even a sort of _family_.

The next year, his friends came again to visit him and celebrate his birthday, and there were more this time, and the year after that, too. There was Piotr Skut, the Estonian pilot whom they'd met on the Red Sea- they encountered him again at an aeroport in Djakarta, and then he became a dear friend. And then there was Chang, the first friend Tintin had ever really made. He started to come to these celebrations with his adoptive family after they rescued him in Tibet, and their friendship was truly rekindled. They saw each other a lot more after that. And then someone let word slip somewhere along the line, and Bianca Castafiore started to come with Irma and Igor, too. The Captain didn't like that, but he put up with it well enough.

There was no place like this in the world, and no friends like the ones who came to visit him here. Here, the place that he lived because the man he so loved- what wonderful words, Tintin thought- had invited him to. Because he _wanted_ him, just like the friends who came to visit, but even more so. Because of him, because of all of them, Marlinspike Hall was _home_.


End file.
